


Closed Circuit

by Solar_Sylvilagus



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: But what else is new?, Gen, I'm tagging it as wxson even though this very much pre-ship, I've always been kinda ehhhh about how they're presented as just immediately accepting a robot, Just like I've been very ehhhh about how people present WX-78 as being emotionless, Pre-Relationship, WX-78's life outside of The Constant was Kinda Shitty, Wilson's trying but he's awkward, also the survivors are kinda sorta mean to wx?, despite being from the early 1900s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:11:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solar_Sylvilagus/pseuds/Solar_Sylvilagus
Summary: WX-78 had a bit of a rocky start with his neighbors.





	Closed Circuit

**Author's Note:**

> I literally just wrote this in like an hour with no beta-reader. It's pure self-indulgence with no real larger plot.

“Surviving together would be more efficient, you know.”

WX-78 eyed the scientist from beneath the straw hat providing minimal shelter from the spring downpour, trying their best to keep an evenly blank expression.

“I AM AWARE.” Apparently, the scientist human had been selected as the most recent ambassador from the camp of other survivors, despite their relationship being off to the rockiest start of them all. You don’t just ask to look into someone’s inner mechanisms, though their offense seemed to be treated as more of an amusing programming choice than one of genuine ire. Until a metal fist had broken the cartilage of his nose as if it were as easy as snapping a twig. For a while then, the survivors had been content to leave the automaton to their solitary existence.

Which was fine by them. Unpleasant company is worse than no company, and they’d had their fill of condescension long before coming to The Constant. But when the survivors had banded together, including the now former King of The Board, their peace was no more. Apparently, if the kidnapper and general tormentor was going to stay with them, then the automaton should too. Notwithstanding WX-78’s own opinion on the matter. In fact, the mention of moving to the ‘’main’’ camp had been presented to them almost as an after thought.

And once again, the humans were shocked by the show of an independent will. Typical.

Now, here stood the most hated human of them all, still blatantly eyeing their metal casing with unabashed curiosity. At least he now had the sense to avoid broaching the topic. But the lack of further response seemed to put him at a loss for how to continue.

“Well?”

“JUST BECAUSE I AM AWARE OF SOMETHING, DOES NOT MEAN I INTEND TO ACT ON THAT KNOWLEDGE.”

After pausing a beat to let their statement sink in, they turned, opened the gate to their base camp, and closed it firmly after them. The effect was lessened by the rest of the walls only being slightly higher than the man’s head.

* * *

 It was at least a few days before they were bothered again, once more by the scientist. This time, he stood on his tip-toes to peer over the walls of their base. And, despite the annoyance this invasion of privacy caused, they kept their fists to themselves. Instead, they addressed him casually.

“I BELIEVE THE COLLOQUIAL TERM FOR ONE WHO EXHIBITS SUCH BEHAVIOR IS A ‘PEEPING TOM’?”

That seemed to get a reaction, a clatter sounding from outside as the man lost his balance from too quickly dropping to a normal posture. Upon opening the gate, their eyes turned to the smashed clay pot on the ground. Stammered apologies for improper behavior and the broken pot were merely annoying background noise as they knelt carefully to inspect the mess. It wasn’t destroyed, merely broken, a large crack making a diagonal line across the left side. No plant had been transferred into it yet, but the soil that had been packed in anticipation was now spilled across the cobble path. A bit of cleaning and some careful work would fix the mess easily. But what currently held their attention was the babbling scientist.

“—incredibly rude of me, not at all befitting a gentleman of my standing! Please, if I can ever—” And on and on until WX responded curtly.

“GENTLEMAN? I THOUGHT YOU WERE A SCIENTIST?”

Gentlemen were the wealthy, eccentric ones who paid obscene amounts for the chance of having an automaton of their own. Not the ones who made the automatons or were interested in how they worked. They were the ones who hummed and squinted and asked if there was one in blue instead of an unpleasing mustardy yellow.

Perhaps it was the blunt tone, but it seemed to be taken as an insult. Or perhaps the wince was something else entirely? But under his breath, he mumbled. “I can be both, you know.” Which WX found very interesting.

* * *

As expected, fixing the clay pot was an easy if time-consuming task. So, as a preventative measure, they moved the rest of their clay pots into the safe walls of their base. Which was why it was surprising to find a pot placed carefully in front of their door, a few days after the incident. A quick inspection showed the craftsmanship to be poor and most definitely not done by WX-78 themself. But what was even odder was the bit of papyrus tied to the side of it with a tiny bit of rope. Sloppy hand-writing was scrawled unevenly across it, whoever having written it clearly over-estimating the paper’s size versus how much they had to say. Skimming it quickly revealed slightly less rambling apologies than what the scientist had blurted out in person, with a slightly neater signature at the bottom.

Wilson P Higgsbury.

* * *

 

The camp wasn’t as far from their base as they’d first thought, which helped explain how the humans seemed to show up on their doorstep every few days. Once they’d passed the neat wall of trees the noise of the group was much more apparent, even though said noise died quickly as they were spotted. Despite clear tension, no one moved to stop their approach until they were within the camp itself.

“IS THE SCIENTIST FLESHLING PRESENT?” A few winces were had at the loud metallic voice, and no responses came. None were necessary, however, as it was easy to spot the ridiculous hair of the man despite how he tried to blend into the scenery. A red-haired woman clutched a spear but held off on attacking just yet, even as they strode directly towards their target.

The silence was almost as awkward as the fleeting eye contact, and it occurred to WX-78 that this was as close as they had been since their first encounter. There were no signs of the previous broken nose.

“I AM WX-78.”

Somehow, this was the most bewildered stare they’d gotten yet. “Uh. What… uh. Did you come all this way just to tell me your name?”

“YES. I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO TELL YOU THAT YOUR POTTERY IS HORRENDOUS. IF YOU ARE INSISTENT UPON BEING ALLIES, IT WOULD ONLY BE FITTING THAT WE SHARE OUR SKILLS AS WELL AS INFORMATION.”


End file.
